I often make this strange and penetrating dream Of an unknown woman, and that I like, and who like me And which is, each time, neither completely the same one Nor completely another, and likes me and includes/understands me. Because it includes/understands me, and my heart, transparency For it only, alas! only cease being a problem For it, and moistnesses of my pale face, It only can refresh them, while crying. Is it brown, fair or russet-red? - I am unaware of it. Its name? I remember that it is soft and sound As those of liked that the Life exiled. Its glance is similar taking into consideration statue, And, for its voice, remote, and calms, and serious, it has the inflection of the expensive voices which are kill.

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